Stream of Shuichi's Consciousness
by lawless523
Summary: Shuichi babbles into his iPod.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer:_** It's Maki Murakami's sandbox; I just play in it. I don't own the rights to _Gravitation_ or its characters, nor do I make money from them; Maki Murakami and her publishers do. No copyright or other infringement is intended.  
_**Rating/Warnings:** _M for profanity and sexual content, including references to _doujinshi_ rated 18+.  
_**Summary:** _Shuichi babbles into his iPod.

_**STREAM OF SHUICHI'S CONSCIOUSNESS**_

My butt hurts.

Yeah, spare me the obvious jokes and insults. It's not what you think. Eiri is not the culprit here. It's that bitch Lisa.

No, Lisa isn't some dyke who plunges into my ass with an enormous strap-on dildo. Trust me, Eiri's enormous enough, and despite his reputation for coldness, is warmer than any dildo I've ever tried.

Tohma hired her as our choreographer and dance coach. Except she calls herself a "kinesthesiologist". I guess it's a real profession, at least in the States, and means that in addition to being a sadistic bitch, she has the training in anatomy and physiology to go with it. It might be a good background for a dominatrix.

Actually, Mari Winsor is the real culprit, but I would never have known her were it not for Lisa. Lisa is really big on "conditioning" and "muscle toning". She says we are athletes as well as musicians and "artistes". She says it will help keep up our energy levels for our performances and music videos. She's even said it will help our love lives.

What Lisa actually said was that it would also help our performance with our groupies. She doesn't seem to know that most of us stay as far away as possible from the fans who want semen autographs.

Anyway, in addition to the dance class she conducts for us weekly, she has "recommended" that we take up this weird exercise routine called "Pilates". That's three syllables, not two. I was confused. I've only ever heard of the Pilate who sentenced that Jesus guy to death in the Christian scriptures.

According to Lisa, "Pilates" was a German-born physical therapist who came up with this frightening contraption called a "reformer" to help rehabilitate some of his most badly injured clients. Thank whatever gods exist that someone's adapted his exercises for the floor. Mari Winsor is the Pilates instructor whose DVDs Lisa recommended. Given our hectic schedules, it seemed the better alternative to taking classes. Besides, we'd have to schedule private lessons, for obvious reasons, and while we can afford it, it's not worth the hassle.

For all the fun I'm making of Lisa – and it's not even half the fun Eiri makes of her; after all, full-breasted perky West Coast blonde girls who are a cross between a head cheerleader, the most popular girl at school, and the meanest dominatrix ever are great, wet, sloppy targets – she seems to be right about the exercises. I do feel more energetic, I have more stamina, and it's even improved my love life. Eiri says that my sphincter muscles are tighter and better controlled than before. He doesn't need to slap me around so much when he's fucked me so senseless that I'm too loose; he just tells me to tighten those butt muscles. If only he could do that in Mari Winsor's voice!

I've even gotten him to do the routine with me sometimes. Of course, afterward he usually wants to jump me, which means we're both good and sore later on from the double workout.

Why is it everything I say comes out dirtier than I meant it to? Eiri's therapist would probably tell me that it's some kind of Freudian slip, that I really do mean it. Maybe she's right. Since Eiri initiated me so many years ago, it seems like we've changed places.

Oh, he's still as kinky as ever; I still blush and he likes to embarrass me, but I initiate sex more often than him now and I'm the insatiable one.

Eiri Yuki, you have a lot to answer for. You've tainted me for life.

Eiri likes his sleep. Hell, he needs his sleep. After all, he's, what – three and a half years older than me? No, really, while he's strong and physically tough, and still way more prone to violence than I am, he's always needed a lot of rest after long bouts of writing or whatever.

Oh yeah – I didn't mean "everything I say" figuratively. I'm dictating this into my iPod. (Why the heck does the word "dictation" sound so dirty? Maybe because it's got a "dick" in it.) Eiri's promised to transcribe it. Learning how to play keyboards is about as far as I ever got with keyboards of any type. I can navigate my way around computer software, program it even, but I never got beyond typing with one finger while looking at the keys.

Besides, unlike Eiri, I can express myself more easily with my tongue than with a pen. (Okay, I made that deliberately dirty, just for my transcriber's enjoyment.) I know I have a lot of practice; after all, he's always telling me how much I babble on nonsensically.

As you probably know if you're reading this, he is a terrible talker. Meaning he says terrible things when he talks which he half-means, or mostly means, but aren't anywhere near the whole of what he feels. Insert joke here about me being the hole he fills. Yes, he's actually said that, and worse. Much worse.

He's promised to transcribe this rant without changing anything except errors in grammar. Well, what he actually said was "I can't fucking stand to type something ungrammatical or that doesn't make sense, so don't make any mistakes like that, or I'll stop typing. Or fix it, if I can figure out what you meant. I might even rewrite it to my own satisfaction..." That was when I told him to stop talking, that I got the point.

It'll be interesting to see if he keeps his promise or if he gives in to the temptation to add editorial comments. He said he'll leave the typescript for me to proofread when I get home.

(The following is in Eiri's handwriting.)

Typing's done. I don't know why you dictated this, or what you intend to do with it, but it doesn't completely suck. You, on the other hand, do. Come in the bedroom when you're finished and prove it to me again.

(The following is in Shuichi's handwriting.)

Damn if he didn't keep his promise. I love you, Eiri Uesugi.


	2. Chapter 2

_**DIALOGUE EPILOGUE: WHAT'S A META FOR?**_

After Shuichi found the completed typescript on the coffee table in the living room and proved the truth of the handwritten statement at the bottom of the typescript, he and Eiri spoke about it.

"Hey, you little idiot, what are you planning on doing with this? Are you starting a journal?"

"No, it's just something I wanted to get off my chest. That way I don't have to bother you as much with my incessant whining and complaining."

Rolling his eyes, Eiri said, "And twenty minutes of listening to this shit and having to type it isn't worse?"

"So when you wrote it didn't completely suck, you were trying to be _kind_?"

"No, actually, you're right, it's not the same as listening to you whine and complain in living color. Besides, your asides seemed directed to me, not whatever audience you're writing this for. And you didn't answer the question – what exactly are you doing with this? If this was all just for your benefit, to get things off your chest, I wasted my precious time transcribing it. If you just wanted me to know this, you could have just asked me to listen to the recording."

Shuichi blushed. "Well, yeah, I did have a wider audience in mind."

"Who the fuck do you want to read this . . . this drivel? And where? And how?"

Shuichi replied in a small voice, "Yuki . . . I mean Eiri . . . You know the manga Gravitation and Gravitation EX that was made about our great --"

Eiri interrupted, "Yeah, that fucking invasion of privacy. As I remember, Mizuki, Tohma, and my publisher blackmailed me into giving permission for that. I always thought Murakami-sensei was trouble, even though you found her adorable. And she's done doujinshi that depict us and every guy we know and love or hate – or both simultaneously - having hot gay sex. What's worse is our scenes seem vaguely familiar. Man, what is wrong with that woman? The only reason I haven't complained about the doujinshi is that it would only bring more attention, which would violate our privacy even more!"

Shuichi responded slyly, "She makes you look really hot and big. I'm sure that helps stroke your ego. And maybe other parts."

Eiri seemed a little put out. "That and the royalty checks. And I thought you said that I was, quote, enormous, unquote?"

"Yeah, but I have my problems with her too. After the first few volumes, I stopped looking like me and started looking more like . . . a ten-year old hermaphrodite. And she doesn't seem to realize that sometimes you let me do you. That whole Panda Tohma/Tatsuha thing was based on the idea that you had never let me do that and that I would be shocked at seeing Tohma and Tatsuha stuff their dicks into you. Well, actually I would be shocked at seeing Tohma or Tatsuha stuff their dicks . . . "

Eiri interrupted before Shuichi could say more embarrassingly personal stuff. "Yeah, brat, I know what you mean." Addressing the real issue, he said, "No one knows how much fun it can be for the person who's normally in control to lose control . . . . Not that I want to make it a habit."

"Yeah, our fans seem to be hung up on the terms 'top' and 'bottom,' 'submissive' and 'dominant', 'seme' and 'uke'." Slightly resentfully, Shuichi added, "You don't seem to mind the term 'Master'."

Eiri laughed (and no, his facial muscles didn't creak). "Well, I don't call you my slave, or even my servant. You don't know how stimulating it is to hear you say 'Please, Master' in an anime voice while you're wearing that maid's outfit." /1/

"That's only when I want you to come in my mouth." /1/

Teasingly, Eiri asked, "And how did Murakami-sensei get that detail right, hm? Where's she getting this inside information?"

Shuichi replied, thinly, "Maybe Tohma's installed a hidden video system in the apartment. I wouldn't put it past him, and he has access to all kinds of technology. /2/ If he can't have you, he can have Eiri porn, and leaking it to Murakami-sensei is a way to make money off it without releasing the actual video." Brightening up, he continued, "Maybe he's the one who asked her to do Megamix Panda? I can just imagine him jacking off to that – he'd probably have the biggest, wildest orgasm of his life." He snapped, "It might even last more than two seconds."

Eiri was a little surprised Shuichi was being so mean about the man who held his career in the balance, and said, almost to himself, "And do you think Tatsuha gets off on it too?" but quickly added, "Don't answer that. Besides, moron, you've gotten me off point and evaded the question again. Ever think of going into politics?"

"Well, since you think I'm so good at the art of sucking up –"

Eiri started to get angry. "Shit, Shuichi, can't you answer a straight question –"

"When were you ever straight, anyway?"

"Okay, so I left myself wide open for that. You're not the only one modeling Freudian lingerie here. But, seriously, who the fuck is going to see this?"

"Remember those websites? With our fans? And their fanfics?"

Eiri started to growl. "This sounds like a really bad . . ."

Shuichi blithely continued, "Eiri, you have to admit, some of them are really entertaining. And some are really well-written. And a few are both entertaining and well-written. Well, anyway, I've created an account on one of them. , it's called. So I'm going to post it."

Eiri, beginning to get really mad, yelled, "AS YOU? C'mon, Shuichi, I was just bitching about the invasion of privacy that Murakami pervert perpetrates. Now YOU'RE going to do it? And gods, if you do it, there's nothing I can do about it, legally!"

But all Shuichi did was smile at him beatifically. "No, Eiri, that's the beauty of it. You use an alias, a penname. Something less like your actual name than 'Eiri Yuki'. My account is under a penname no one would ever guess is mine. Suguru helped me piggyback on some American chick's internet account. I'll post it anonymously, just like everybody else, and everyone will think it's been written by another crazed hormonal fangirl."

* * * *

So . . . did a crazed hormonal fangirl write this, or did Shuichi? A question almost as profound as the one Tweedledum posed to Alice in Through the Looking Glass. /3/

/1/ See Megamix Kumagoro.

/2/ I think Shuichi's lying and he's Murakami-sensei's source.

/3/ His answer to the question as to what would happen to Alice if the Red King stopped dreaming about her was "You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream!"

**A/N - **This is the first fanfic I ever wrote or posted. It's been modified somewhat for inclusion here; it was originally written for the _Gravitation _fanfiction website Gurabite.


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